


A Running Chance

by asimplewalk



Series: Prompt Jar [19]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3832246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimplewalk/pseuds/asimplewalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve takes a lot of pleasure in running, and it's certainly brought some good people into his life. Maybe it'll give him a second chance, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Running Chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SteeleHoltingOn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleHoltingOn/gifts).



> My Momma, Steele, [](http://crownsandashes.tumblr.com/post/115625370618/steeleholtingon-crownsandashes-steeleholtingon)tagged me in a post, wanting me to do the thing. I have done the thing, and you are welcome, Ma. 
> 
> Unbeta'd fanwork. Plot is my vague take on an idea, all mistakes are mine, and the recognizable characters and properties belong to their rightful license owners.

Sometimes, while Steve’s out for his run, it feels a little like, as he passes through certain areas, that someone is watching him. New York hasn’t changed a whole lot, even when it regularly feels like everything is different. Children still play, he can still hear people singing through open windows during the blackouts in the dead of summer, snow still looks ruddy and tilled on frozen winter streets. Mouthwatering smells still waft from restaurants in the late evening air.  
There are beautiful places, even now, even if some of the alleys have moved around, if that italian place (that had belonged to the mob, if the rumors were correct) is a cell phone store now. So, one of the little parks is one that he cuts through when he goes for his morning run.

Well, he tries to run in the mornings. Sometimes that schedule changes around, though. It’s mid-morning, and after seeing to a lot of frustrating paperwork up at the Tower, he’s able to work his frustrations out. He’d ended up somewhere in Hell’s Kitchen, and he’d heard the laughter of a pretty blonde as she and her friend were pushing little kids on the swing. There had been two men sitting on a bench not far away, and one of them was occasionally teasing the two that were up to their elbows in excited little ones.

The other looked familiar, but Steve tried to stuff down that horrible feeling in his gut. Sixteen miles, in total, and still another few to go. Instead, he took the moment to slow down. Or, well, he flipped a few times, for the sole sake that a couple of the little kids were watching, before rolling into a handstand. Sure, Natasha had taught him how to goof off, but Clint and he’d been taking it to the next level with their team efforts in the “Selfie Olympics” that they were all participating in.

Sometimes, Steve just goes with Tony’s stupid ideas. 

He’s balanced, so he just holds the pose while the children are ooh-ing and ahh-ing at him. The woman is laughing and applauding much as the kids are, “That’s amazing! There’s sticking a landing and then whatever you just did.”

“Matt, this guy just took a running start into about eight thousand flips and landed on his hands. And is just standing there.” The man next to her, he’d been describing something when Steve’d come barrelling into the park. It occurred to him, then, that the man is probably blind.

The kids seem to finally give in, running over and crowding him, asking if he’ll teach them how to do that. “Well, I can’t if I’m like this, I need to be standing. Make a little room?” The little ones clear in the direction his back is facing, so Steve lets his body fall that way before sitting up. 

It’s maybe another ten minutes before a casually dressed Natasha walks up to where he is giving the impromptu tumbling lesson, amused at the way he’s got two very enthused adults helping him spot a gaggle of excited future gymnasts. “Here, if you want to do a handstand, you have to balance your belly button over your nose.” She says it immediately, because Steve’s struggling to explain the concept, and shows exactly what she means by pushing him over so that he falls into the pose she means and then tugging his shirt out of the way to draw a line in the air to demonstrate for the kids.

“Yeah, listen to her. She’s a lot better at teaching this kinda stuff.”

“Well yeah. But how do you know, did she teach you?” The little girl had been overly skeptical of him and his poor explanations through the whole process.

“Yes, she did. Well, a lot of it.” Steve laughs and flops in a direction his mass isn’t going to squish any of the kids around him. “Her partner taught me a lot too, though.”

“Yeah I did!” Clint goes flying passed, cartwheels, flips, somersaults, handsprings, tumbling. He goes over Steve and Natasha’s heads to start with, landing in the five feet between their standing forms, and the redhead doesn’t even have to duck. This leaves everyone in awe again, and the little ones are cheering. “But that’s just because I was in the circus.” He’s not all that winded, even though he’s in running clothes, too, and had been running with Sam. 

“I hate all three of you. You’re so mean. All athletic and pretty.” Sam’s not terribly out of breath either, but he’s certainly a lot sweatier than Clint is. “Hey, beautiful. And you, too, Nat, good to see you on an off day.” Sam leans up and kisses Steve’s and then down to Natasha’s cheeks, flopping in the grass a ways away. 

Clint and Natasha take over the lesson, even getting the two adults and an amused if faking-beleaguered Sam to participate. The blind man is still on the bench, but the other that had been with him is conspicuously missing. So the soldier takes the chai latte that the Russian had handed off to him and instructed to finish up and sits in the empty seat. “Sorry if I interrupted a conversation.”

“Nothing to interrupt. Foggy’s babysitting a couple of nieces, so we all took the day.” He holds a hand out, and Steve shakes it, still firm and certain in his grip. He remembers not wanting to be treated like glass when he was coughing his guts out and deaf in one ear, figures the courtesy is still pretty universal. “Matt Murdock. And you met my partner, Foggy Nelson, and our secretary, Karen Page.” The man makes a vague motion in the direction then of all the excitement.

“Steve Rogers. Pleasure to meet you. You two business partners, or together?” It’s not as strange to ask, for the soldier, even though Stark likes to make a lot of assumptions. “And who was the other guy?”

“Yeah, lawyers. That was James. He’s still a little uneasy about his surroundings. I’m going to guess that you understand that, being a combat veteran, too.” The man has a small smirk on his face, and it makes Steve laugh.

“Sure. Gotta say, your voice is awfully familiar. You wouldn’t happen to have that deep abiding love for humanity driving you to perform acts of vigilante justice, would you?” During the Ultron issues, they’d come across that Daredevil guy, and he sounded a lot like Matt does.

“I have no idea what you mean, Captain.” Matt nods anyway, before tipping his head toward the tumbling lesson. 

“Hey, dinosaur! Here!” Steve snatches the coin purse that Natasha whips in his direction, “I’m out here with KITT, go feed the meter.” Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, but accepts the reference. 

“Shouldn’t you be calling it SITT?” He snaps back immediately, but stands all the same. “Back in a moment. I prefer not dying in my sleep by telling her no.” 

“Of course. Especially terrifying since she’s such a maneater.” The teasing tone carries Steve’s smile as he walks out towards the street, actually gulping back the lukewarm (and utterly delicious) beverage. 

He gets to the edge of the park and hears his surname called softly as he steps out onto the sidewalk. It doesn’t register at first, and he almost thinks to keep going, but this is what Natasha means when she calls him an idiot, so he turns to look in the opposite direction first before asking, “Who is-” 

Except that’s all he gets out, that’s all he _can_ say, because that man looks exactly like one he’s been looking for. The arm confirms it’s him, sure, but those eyebrows are pretty distinct. The five o’clock shadow over the jaw that he’d spent a lot of time wanting to lovingly thumb over and slam his fist into in equal measures. The steely sheen over glacial blue of the guy’s eyes show the same confusion and hurt and fear and rage that had burned a lot brighter on that helicarrier when he’d raised a gun to and fired on Steve.

There’s no gear visible, but Steve has known his new teammates for too long now to not believe there aren’t at least four knives hidden in the jeans, in the ankles of the boots he’s wearing. 

He looks terrified. Angry. Scared.

Steve does the first thing that comes to mind for it. He drops the coinpurse, bares one side of his neck, and shows Bucky his palms. “I missed the hell outta you, Barnes.”

“I’m not coming with you.” It’s sharp, cold, decisive, but not the monotone that Steve was expecting if he did speak, or, God forbid the idea but the shaking shouts- “I’m not going to let anyone near me like that.”

“S’fine, Bucky. Wouldn’t ask you to to something you don’t wanna.”

“Bullshit, you used to do it all the time.” The eyeroll and the words coming quick and sharp and snarky as hell startle both men. And, oh, it hurts like a hit to the gut for Steve to see the other look scared of himself like that.

“Not now, I’m not. You had enough of doing what you didn’t want to, doing what others want. And that’s alright. Anything I can help with?” Steve’s gotta try. Hell, he knows where he is now, and that at the moment, feels like enough.

“I don’t- I don’t know. Can I- _may_ I- Would it be alright to get back to you on it?” The stutter becomes an exhale, and Steve’s grateful that his hearing’s so good now. 

“Is it alright if I call their office and check on you?” Steve shoots the question back. Wonders if all of Bucky’s memories are back, or if they’re returning because of triggered scenarios, or-

His friend looks torn for a moment, wavering in place minutely, chewing at the inside of his top lip. “Yeah. If- if you’d like. I- ah” That skittishness was gonna win, soon, and Steve’s glad that he got this much. 

“Go, I’ll leave a number with one of the others.” Steve nods and leans down and looks to the black drawstring bag of change he’d dropped on purpose, giving the man a chance to disappear. 

He’s not disappointed.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I made a Knight Rider joke. Come at me, yo. But really, I just finished Daredevil and I might have to rethink a lot of things now. Namely what I have been doing with my life without these dumb avocados at law.
> 
> Feel free to come howl at me or send me prompts over on [tumblr](http://www.crownsandashes.tumblr.com/).


End file.
